There is a certain habit of people to look down on the old men who play at war from the confines of a drawing room. Those decrepit and callous beings who sign away lives with quill and wax. Of course VALOR is on the battlefield. HONOR is in defeating the enemy. But victory comes from logistics. Of course, the best logistics in the world will be for naught in the hands of a fool, someone still needs to walk over to the enemy and stab them to death. I by no means wish to downplay the importance of that risky business, but as they say an army marches on their stomach.

It is the fortune made by a young boy’s lusts that this aspect of history is enlivened. For it was not dusty old men leering at their cup girls deciding the fate, but Aisha. She arrived in Rackvidd like a fruit about to ripen, her colors just about to change as she came into herself thanks to the responsibility Lucius had given her.

Not everyone could see the change about to occur in her, but one man did.

This man was a drunk, a wash up with the taste of defeat rotting in the back of his throat. No amount of beer could wash it from his mouth, and each night brought nightmares of remembrance. He was a captain, but his crew were strangers to him. All his friends and allies, those who served him through thick and thin, their bones littered the sea floor. It wasn’t even Vassish ships that passed over them, but Aillesterran.

But this man, Captain Thornby, was the prize catch, not the fisherman.

Aisha stepped up on a wooden table with a familiar grace. She wore slender heels fit for a noble’s ball, which might have slipped into the cracks between boards and yet never did. Her mere presence demanded their attention and the talking quieted. “This town is like a drawn bow, held but not released,” she said, shocking them with her simple words rather than a song. She didn’t even have a lyre in her grasp. “You can feel the tension, can’t you? The preparation and hesitation? The way the season is changing. Rackvidd is caught in a political storm.”

She spoke in Vassish, perfectly fluent after all her time with Lucius. She even had a bit of a noble affectation to her pronunciation which caught the ear of the mercantile class. “There was supposed to be a war of reclamation eastward, but then every nobleman with ambition sprinted northward to join the prince. Rackvidd has an army and a half, with a bruised ego too, but your enemies are allowed to lick their wounds. The time to strike back has already passed. Do any of you really want to sail over now?”

Some men jeered her as a coward.

She held up a hand. “Aillesterra hasn’t been sitting on their hands. You won’t be fighting desert traders for horses and camels, you’ll be getting ambushed by eastern pirates. The Cyclops–you’ve heard of her, haven’t you?--knows how Vassermark works. She knows the political delays. She’s taking this time to prepare.”

One man, drunker than Thornby by a good measure, stood up. He was built not like an ox but more like a dairy cow, which let him bellow. “Who are you to talk? You Giordanan wench.”

“I’m here to offer a solution. Good pay. Land. Glory. You want it, you name it and go get it,” she said, letting a smirk creep onto her face. The man couldn’t have interrupted at a better time as far as she was concerned.

“We sail for Lord Raymi, not you,” the fat man retorted.

“Are you not free men? I thought this was a sailor’s bar, for captain and crew who live in Sapphira’s realm. What is Raymi but one lord among many? I’m here as a representative of Lucius von Solhart, governor of the Misty Isles, and he has put out an open call to all men of the sea to come south!”

For a moment, she let the bar whisper. The name Solhart still had mixed reactions in Rackvidd. It was only a few months prior that he was known both as a war hero and as the fool that lost Puerto Faro. Arguing whether he should be lauded or scolded was a favorite pastime for drunks, particularly those who had fought in the siege. The news that he had been appointed the governor of the southern archipelago still hadn’t truly sunk into the psyche of the city.

“He is offering a letter of mark for all who would assist him in rooting out rebels and pirates from the Misty Isles. Payment in gold for captured ships and any land liberated from insurgents will be parceled out as reward. It’s good, fertile farm land for those interested. I know plenty of you are in love with the sea, but the Misty Isles are a place of endless summer, ripe for the plow and far from war… once the issues have been sorted out. And think about it, do you really want to sail on Giordana while pirates are at your backs?”

With that, she hopped off the table and strode through the crowd. With her head high above the seated men, she locked eyes with Miss Lynnfield and took a position in the corner of the tavern. A local bard, much less talented than her, plucked a hesitant tune as men began to stir between the tables. A few rose. They moved to join her and ask about terms. They inquired on payment and about the farming conditions. They were first mates and deckswabs, inconsequential sailors who could only beg their captains and the rightful owners of their ships. Many were mere traders with aspirations for more, willing to consider violence. The entire group of them put together were like so many minnows–not worth one real fish.

Until Thornby approached her.

“My name is Jason Thornby, I’m a man of the sea. Could I ask of you your name?”

“Aisha Canta, I’m…” Her stumble over her own title was not lost on the man. “Lucius’ representative to Rackvidd, and presently, a guest of Lord Raymi. Are you interested in the work?”

“It might be that I am, but work is only as good as the man one works for. Please, tell me about Solhart,” he said, stealing a seat and planting himself down before her. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a man using a woman like you to speak on his behalf in my life.”

She cocked her head, sizing him up. Young and strong, but perhaps old enough to be a decision maker. “Why? Do you think I’m not qualified on the matter?”

“I think you’re too beautiful,” he said, and held her gaze with an unwavering firmness like he was the stone of the earth despite the sea.

That was like a hammer to her confidence. Her mature face shattered to reveal the embarrassed teen that she was–not even nineteen yet. Sera interjected, her knight to the rescue. “I think you’d get along with Lucius great. You have the same taste.”

Thronby nodded. “If he sees you truly, then why are you here? Rather than with him?”

Aisha was able to control her emotions once more through the sheer power of her pout. “Didn’t you hear my speech? It’s too dangerous in the Isles right now. There’s this group hiding between the islands. They’ve tried to assassinate him multiple times now. He wants me where it’s safe.”

“And that’s what we’re needed for? To kill assassins?”

“The ones supporting them, yes. The islands haven’t actually been brought into subordination. There are enclaves hidden on the islands hostile to Vassermark. To deal with them, Lucius is offering to hire armed ships.”

“And pay them with the booty we claim for ourselves.”

“Largely, yes.”

Thornby nodded and stroked his beard and nodded. He turned the idea over and judged his own perceptions. He weighed the drunkenness of his mind and compared it to the truth of his spirit. Some scholars believe alcohol to be the enemy of truth, but this is a silly notion. Men are the enemy of truth, the baggage they carry with them. Each soul in Lumisgard carries years and years of bias, most of which is passed down from parent to child like a disease. Inebriation can let a man see past that, though there are much better drugs to consume for that purpose. Still, in vino veritas. Thornby understood this, and he judged the cause good.

“I’d like you to join me tomorrow,” he said, opening his eyes once more.

Aisha was taken aback, but his presence was like a ward to all others in the bar. While he spoke to her, none other would approach. It hinted at his importance, but little more. “That’s a very bold invite.”

“Your lady friend may join us,” he said.

“Even bolder.”

“I’d like you to meet some people. Or rather, I would introduce you to them. It will be a far better use of your time than speaking to the common men.”

She let out her breath and composed herself. “I think I understand your meaning now. This would be for tea, then?”

Thornby shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll have tea, yes. They mostly get together to smoke tobacco and make bets.”

Aisha and Sera glanced at one another. When the knight gave the nod that she wasn’t worried about safety, Aisha tentatively asked, “What kind of bets?”

Thornby held out his arms and laughed. He seemed to take in the whole establishment with his presence as he said, “What other kind of bets would I be talking about? Bets on ships and lives, on cattle and gold. My lady Canta, I would like to bring you to the Shipping Investments Guild; the bankers of Rackvidd.”